Tales from Twolegplace
by ChocolateAndWriting
Summary: We've heard tales of the Clans, but other cats have stories, too. Chapter ideas are welcome! I haven't updated this in while, but I'd still love any feedback you have. Rated T to be safe.
1. Princess

**Princess's perspective:**

I walked along the top of the narrow fence, carefully placing one paw in front of the other so I wouldn't slip off onto the ground. Firestar was gone. My brother and his Clan were lost to me, most likely forever; I didn't know where he went when he left. He came to see me, one day, a long time ago now. I remember seeing his bright ginger fur gleam as he leapt down into my housefolks' garden, over the fence. Behind him, the shadowed forest loomed, encroaching on the Twoleg town.

"Firestar!" I called when he stepped onto the neat trimmed grass, so foreign to him and his kind who thrived in the wild woods. He purred when he saw me, sitting in a patch of sunlight beside my housefolks' nest.

"Sister," he mewed, darting up to me. He flicked my ear affectionately with his tail, but his eyes clouded suddenly. "I have news," his voice lowering to nearly a whisper. "Bad news, unfortunately." In that moment I saw my brother's sorrow, a heavy weight burdening his broad shoulders.

"Princess, I have to leave with my Clan."

His voice was tired, betraying the calm façade of a leader that he wore. I was worried for him. The forest and his leadership duties were taking a toll on him. But I knew better than to try to convince him to stay in Twolegplace. The forest was his home, and I respected that. I had to respect that.

"What's wrong?" I asked, somewhat accusingly. "Don't tell me everything's all right because I know it's not, Firestar. I can tell." I sat down and curled my tail around me, waiting for an explanation.

He sighed and stretched out in the sun. "I know, it's no use hiding anything from you. You're like Cinderpelt; you always know what I'm thinking." I looked at him in confusion, and he clarified: "Cinderpelt is the ThunderClan medicine cat. Sorry, sometimes I forget you're not in the forest with us."

I remember Cinderpelt. Firestar has told me plenty about her, about when she was his apprentice and then became a medicine cat after being hit by a monster. Poor cat. I can't imagine what she's been though.

Nostalgia catches up with me a lot nowadays. That makes me sound like an elder, I know, but it's true. I remember Firestar's visits, and my son Cloudtail's as well. Cloudtail was so happy the last time he visited me, months ago. He had a mate, Brightheart, and a kit named Whitekit. He told me he had proven himself to the Clan and that while he missed me, he was a true warrior now. I was happy for him.

Firestar made me lurch away from my thoughts and back to the present. He turned to me and said those words I shall never forget:

"The Twolegs are driving us out of the forest, Princess. We have to leave, all four Clans, and I might never see you again. _We_ might never see you again," he added, and I knew he was thinking of Cloudtail. I was stunned. It was hard to process his words, but the sadness in his brilliant green eyes conveyed everything that I needed to know.

"I … " What do I say? What should I say to my brother, during the last time I will ever see him? Forever is a long time. When I was just a kitten, I threw it around, nonchalant as any young cat. "It'll be forever until I get big enough to go outside." "You take forever to pour food into my bowl." But I would never, ever see my littermate and my son again. My only kin would be gone. And I would be alone.

My mother and father were long gone; they passed away from old age. My brother Firestar was leaving, and my sister Sunny I hadn't seen for months and months. My other three kits, aside from Cloudtail, were dead or living with some Twoleg far, far away. I never connected with neighboring housecats, really, or anyone. I would truly be alone. Forever is a long time.

I know you want to hear my story. I'm sorry. I'm old, and you know how old cats get … anyway. Firestar was still looking at me, and I still didn't know what to say. I decided on: "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you must go. I'll … I'll miss you. Tell Cloudtail he'll always be my son. And you'll always be my brother." Firestar pressed himself against me, sharing my sorrow. "I'll miss you," I whispered.

"I'll miss you too, Princess," he replied. His fur flashed brightly as he padded across the lawn and leapt onto the fence. I followed him, trotting to keep up. He bounded down onto the other side of the fence as I jumped up to perch precariously on the narrow edge where his paws had been. He paused momentarily at a clump of yellowing bracken at the edge of the woods.

"Firestar!" I called out to him. He turned to look over his shoulder.

"Good luck." My voice was tiny in comparison to the silent woods, but Firestar must have heard me for he twitched his orange tail in reply. Then he turned back to the woods and disappeared into them. I watched until his figure was swallowed up by shadow.

"Good luck," I whispered one more time, knowing that he couldn't hear me and yet hoping that he, somehow, could.

I miss that cat. I am alone, yes; but my memory serves me well, even though it preserves the sadness of that day. The forest is nearly gone now. Thunderpaths crisscross over it, and new nests have been constructed where the Clans hunted, fought, protected each other. And even though I don't believe in StarClan, I hope that wherever Firestar is, his warrior ancestors are there too.

His path may never cross mine again, but I hope wherever he is, he is happy.

StarClan willing.


	2. Smudge

**Smudge's Perspective:**

I'd known Rusty – sorry, I guess he's called Firestar now, but I'm gonna call him Rusty – since we was just kittens in the nest. Well, practically. I know my mother was Rusty's mother's friend, and I lived just two nests down from Rusty when we was taken from our mothers to live with Twolegs. And then he went to the forest and I ain't never seen him since, except once.

I remember when he first went outside the fence, got a taste of the forest, pretty clear. We was living two nests apart – sorry, I said that already. Anyway. I remember I was going out to make dirt, 'cause I hate them litterboxes, and I heard his bell. Real distinctive, different from other cats' bells. I hopped up on my fence and I saw Rusty down there, _outside the fence_. Ain't nobody ever does that! We all know it ain't safe. Rusty either knew and was being stupid, or he didn't know, but I think he knew; Rusty always was a bright one.

Anyway, there he was _outside the fence_ , and I called out to him, a bit nervously, 'cause the forest outside the fence was kinda scary. "Where are you off to, Rusty?"

And he turned and looked at me. I remember his piercing green eyes, and his orange fur that was bright even in the shadow. He looked up at me from the ground and just said, "Hello, Smudge." I mean, what kinda answer is that?

He was obviously going into the woods, but I still asked, "You're not going to go into the woods, are you?"

"Just for a look," Rusty said. I got a little scared as reality set in. Rusty was gonna get killed in there, but I knew there ain't no stopping him. At our age, young toms is just about the stubbornest things ever.

"You wouldn't get me in there," I exclaimed. "It's dangerous!" I thought about the housecat who lived several Thunderpaths away, called Henry. Henry was an old tabby cat, with a thousand million stories to tell, and I liked to go there in the good old days to hear his tales. Rusty would come too, sometimes, and Henry would regale us with loads of adventure and mystery. Henry claimed that he'd been in the forest before, and I was pretty sure that he wasn't lying, but Rusty always was skeptical.

And apparently, he still was.

"Henry said he went into the woods once," I said. I knew that he had heard that story before. We was both there when Henry told that one. I lifted my head to look across rows of gardens and fences in the direction of Henry's nest.

Rusty rolled his eyes. "That fat old tabby never went into the woods. He's hardly been beyond his own garden since his trip to the vet. All he wants to do is eat and sleep!" I flinched at Rusty's harsh words. I _liked_ Henry! He didn't have to be that mean. Henry was pretty lazy back then, though. I stood up for him anyway.

"No, really. He caught a robin there," I claimed. It was true. I saw him coming back over the fence from the woods and he had a bird in his mouth, that robin. He told me he caught it there, in the forest. Of course I believed him; why else would he be on the other side of the fence? Also, I'll admit I was a little bit in awe of Henry at the time. He was kinda my idol. Rusty weren't so sure about him, but we was both going to his nest to hear a tale now and again.

Rusty continued. "Well, if he did, then it was before the vet." True. "Now he _complains_ about birds because they disturb his dozing." Also true, but Henry used to be as fun and energetic as Rusty was. But recently, Rusty had been obsessed with the forest, staring somewhat longingly into its dark depths. I ain't never understood what he saw in it.

"Well, anyway, Henry told me there are all sorts of dangerous animals out there. Huge wildcats who eat live rabbits for breakfast and sharpen their claws on old bones!" That was exaggerating a little bit. Well, really, a lot a bit. Henry told me that there are cats living in the woods, hunting mice for food, but then he got quiet and kind of sad and said no more about it. Rusty wasn't there for that story.

I'm gonna go ahead and say sorry for talking so much about Henry. Henry said this, Henry said that – I know, I know. But it's true, he did say all this stuff!

Rusty looked uncomfortable, but then he ruffled his fur and scoffed. "I'm only going for a look around. I won't stay long." Rusty looked exasperated at my worrying. I'll admit, I had been a bit of a worrywart in my younger days. I knew that Rusty could take care of himself, though, so I let it go.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you!" I purred. Rusty was a good friend, but always curious about something. Oh well. Toms will be toms.

I jumped down off the fence and hurried through my garden to my nest. The little swinging flap smacked my tail as I jumped right through, darn thing! Hated that bird-brained flap. I crouched by my food bowl full of pellets and closed my eyes. I ain't the fittest cat ever, mind you, and lots of movement tuckered me out, so I stumbled over to my bed and took a long nap.

Don't remember much after that. I woke up and it was getting dark, and I ain't one who likes to go out after night falls, so I ate a snack and went back to sleep.

I got up nice and early the next morning and stretched out in my bed, before heading to my refilled food dish. I was kinda reluctant to get up, but I wanted to check on them sparrows in my garden. There was little baby ones, just hatched a few days ago! Sorry. I miss them sparrows. I don't live in my old nest with my old housefolk anymore.

Anyway. I trotted out through that infernal swinging flap and out into my garden. The dew-coated grass was cool on my paws and I sat down under some sweet-smelling flowers to give my black and white fur a good grooming. The sparrows weren't out yet; I'd have some time to spend waiting.

I must have dozed off, because when I woke up them sparrows was hopping around. I spotted a little baby one that had strayed off from its mother, and thought better of getting closer. Cats and birds, well, they ain't a good mix unless you're hungry. And I had a sizable breakfast, so I didn't want no bird. I didn't like the icky taste of the meat. I still don't today.

My ears pricked up when I heard that jingling collar bell of Rusty's. At last! I hopped up onto the fence and padded along it to his garden. "Hello, Rusty!" I called as I perched ungracefully on the narrow fence. I ain't the smallest cat in the world, mind you. Anyway.

I continued. "You should have been awake an hour ago. The baby sparrows were out stretching their wings." Even though I wasn't up that early, Rusty was an early riser, and I was pretty surprised that he weren't up before me.

Rusty looked up at me. "Did you catch any?" he asked, his tail twitching. I yawned in reply. Just getting up on the fence this morning was exhausting. I probably wouldn't take the trek to Henry's nest today.

"Couldn't be bothered," I mumbled sleepily. "I'd already eaten enough at home. Anyway, why weren't _you_ out earlier? Yesterday you were complaining about Henry sleeping his time away, and today you're not much better yourself."

Rusty sat down to get more comfortable. "I was in the woods last night."

Oh! That sure explained a lot. I forgot about that; no wonder he was so tired. "Oh, yes, I forgot! How was it? Did you catch anything? Or did anything catch you?" Surely nothing of importance had happened. Rusty ain't too much of threat to any cat, aside from his energetic craziness that disturbed _certain cats_ from their naps. But Rusty shifted in his spot.

"I met some wild cats."

"What?" I gaped at him. I mean, what were the odds? I thought them wild cats were way out in the forest. That's what Henry said! Did they hurt him? "Did you get into a fight?"

"Sort of." Sort of? What kinda answer was that?

"Were you hurt? What happened?" I was eager to know what went down. I ain't one to not be curious. Gotta be in the know, right?

"There were three of them. Bigger and stronger than any of us!" he exclaimed, now excited.

Three? Wow! Rusty must have fought them off to get away! "And you fought all three of them!" I was just as excited as Rusty now. But he shook his head hastily.

"No! Just the youngest one. The other two came later." I'll admit, I was plenty disappointed. But he had still fought a wild cat and won!

"How come they didn't shred you to pieces?"

"They just warned me to leave their territory. But then . . ." I was so excited! This was like one of Henry's tall tales, but real! I ain't gonna pass this chance up to hear about Rusty's adventure!

"What!" I demanded. "What!?"

"They asked me to join their Clan." Unreal. I stared at him. "They did!" he insisted.

That was the beginning. The beginning of the end. Rusty sure did what he said he might do; he left and he didn't never come back from the forest. But that wasn't the _very_ end. I saw Rusty a few more times over the months; in the forest, once, and when I got some weird dreams a bit later on I saw him again. But then he up and left with that Clan of his, and I never saw him no more. I heard from Princess that that he had left to find a new home or something. I ain't gonna dwell on that, because I miss Rusty. I don't know where he is, or what's happened to him, but I miss him. I'm an older cat know, wiser than I used to be. My memory ain't too good nowadays, mind you. But I'll always remember Rusty.

I prefer telling tales in the sunshine to catching mice, because I ain't getting around much anymore. I still wonder how Rusty's doing, though. Princess and Henry are long gone, and even Hattie is too, that nice little tabby who moved into Rusty's old nest. But I'm here. Not in the same nest, not even in the same Twolegplace, but here. In this Twolegplace close to the sea, I'm happy. I wonder if Rusty is happy, wherever he is. He left his home for what would make him feel complete, going to them woods, so I hope it did.

I miss that wild cat. I really do.

 **. . . . .**

 **Sorry about the long chapter! Any ideas for other Tales?**


	3. Daisy

**Daisy's Story:**

"Mama!"

A pale ginger tabby curled her tail around a tiny creamy-furred kit. "Hush," she whispered. "You have to be as quiet as a mouse. No one must know you are here."

The kit fell silent, trembling. The two cats were crouched in the gritty dirt beneath a sleeping blue monster. The monster was sitting a little ways from a Thunderpath, a large but silent stretch of empty black stone. It was where the two cats had to cross.

"I have to get you away," the she-cat muttered, smoothing her kit's pale fur with a paw. "You can't stay here, with me. The Nofurs will come for you and take you away." It was the mantra that the she-cat repeated, over and over, for why she had to take her kit - her kits - away.

"Shh," the tabby whispered once more, when the kit mewled again. Then she fixed her teeth in the she-kit's scruff and squeezed out from under the monster. The kit swung from her jaws as she trotted hurriedly toward the Thunderpath.

Not a monster in sight. The tabby darted across the stone and disappeared into the weeds and bracken on the other side. Pushing a path through the underbrush, she set down her daughter. "Follow me," she said softly, then forged ahead through the forest, all the while resting her tail on her kit's head to guide her.

Shadows were stretching long across the woods when the two cats stopped. The tabby hoisted her exhausted kit onto her back. "Nearly there," she murmured encouragingly. Evening was approaching, so the mother picked up her pace.

Suddenly, the whisk of ferns was gone, replaced by crunching, shifting pebbles. The tiny cat on the she-cat's back was gently set down onto the narrow strip of beach. It was early summer and the lake's tide was still high from spring rains, so the she-cat kept her daughter back from the green water. "Come," she said, and began padding along the shore, the cream-colored kit slipping and sliding in the small stones behind her.

The sky was a dark blue when they reached the fence. The tabby gazed around warily, sniffing for danger. She tugged her kit close before creeping under the fence and slowly around the edge of the enclosed field. At the end, two large, dark shapes loomed before them, and the kit squeaked in fear. "Hush!" the tabby murmured. She padded forward, ears pricked, tail wrapped protectively about the kit as she steered them towards the second dark shape. A barn.

Tentatively, the tabby called out a single word. "Vivian?" Silence. A little louder, then. "Vivian!"

After a long few moments of silence, a sudden voice was calling back. "What kind of sister calls at this time of night?" A purr laced the tone, bringing with it a warm feeling of welcome. A second tabby she-cat, this one with darker, more defined stripes of white and ginger, stepped from the barn into the night.

"Hello, April," the new cat purred, weaving around her littermate. The first tabby, April, stepped away from her kit to greet her sister.

"Vivian," she mewed. "How good to see you again." April touched her nose to Vivian's ear, their pelts looking so similar in this light that it was obvious to any onlooker that they were sisters. April's fur was only a single shade paler than her littermate's.

Vivian took a pawstep back and peered closer at her sister. "Are you okay? You look worried. What's wrong? Why are you here?"

April stayed silent and ignored all the questions. Instead, she stepped aside, revealing the tiny light-pelted kit batting at a piece of tufted grass. The kit looked up, and its icy blue eyes widened when it saw Vivian, who gasped and whipped her head around to stare at her sister.

"You didn't tell me you had kits, April!" Vivian looked at April, then at the kit, then back to the mother. "What is she doing here? I know it's a long journey from Twolegplace to the horseplace."

April sighed. It was a long, heavy sigh, and the breath she drew afterward fluttered like a trapped butterfly. The she-cat closed her eyes tight, then opened them to speak.

"I was hoping she could come to stay here with you."

Vivian gaped at April. Quite unusual; Vivian was not the kind of cat who was prone to being speechless. She opened and closed her jaws a few times, before grasping the words she wanted and saying them.

"Well, I . . . why? April, what . . . ?

April sighed again. "The Nofurs I live with are going to take them away. I've heard it from multiple other housecats. And I need to save them before it's too late; if they take them, I know I'll never see them again. But if I find homes for them now, I'll . . ." The she-cat trailed off, before looking helplessly to Vivian. "Will you take her?"

Vivian looked lost for just a heartbeat, but then she lifted her chin and her eyes gleamed with resolution. "Of course," she said. "Of course I'll take her. You know I'd do anything for you, April." April nodded, relaxing in gratitude.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Then it's settled. I must get back to the others. You will be her mother now." She turned away, head drooping like a wilted flower, tail dragging in the soft grass. Vivian opened her mouth to speak, but a tiny voice interrupted her.

"Mama? Where are you going?" It was the kit who spoke. She gazed after her mother, who turned to look at her. The she-cat's eyes then shifted from her daughter's blue gaze to Vivian's amber one.

"I have to go, but I love you. I love you so." April's eyes misted over and she turned away, leaving one last parting sentence hanging in the air like a heavy rain cloud.

"I'll miss you, Daisy."

* * *

Minutes after April had gone, the kit and the remaining tabby she-cat sat in silence. Then Vivian padded over to the kit and leaned down to rasp her tongue across Daisy's ears, smoothing the tuft of creamy white fur between them. "Come on," she whispered. "Let's get you settled into your new home." She turned and beckoned the lost-looking kit with a flick of her tail.

"Don't worry, Daisy. I'll be your mama now."

The kit stood and followed her new mother into the darkness of the quiet barn. Into her new family. Into her new life.

Daisy was a horseplace cat now.


End file.
